


Hot For Teacher

by honeyedblooms



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 21:51:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyedblooms/pseuds/honeyedblooms
Summary: Seifer never thought he'd get an opportunity like this, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to take it.In which some long-repressed pining comes to light, and Seifer, of all people, comforts Quistis after her talk with Squall the night of the inauguration ball.





	Hot For Teacher

Seifer had never been more glad that he was part of the disciplinary committee. 

It'd become somewhat of a habit to be out after hours, and who could punish him if he was the one who doled them out? 

Besides, he'd have sorely missed this moment he was now witnessing: Instructor Trepe getting turned down by Puberty Boy.

_"Then go talk to a wall,"_ Leonhart bit out. 

_"Aren't there times when you want to share your feelings with someone?"_ She asked, her tone pleading. 

_"Everyone has to take care of themselves."_ He said, and even to Seifer, it seemed a bit harsh. _"I don't want to carry anyone's burden."_

Seifer shook his head. Leonhart really was the biggest dolt he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, and being that he knew Chicken Wuss, that was really saying something. He backed into the shadows when he saw the dumbass in question approaching, then stepped back out once he was sure he'd gone.

&&&&&&&&

As Squall walked away, Quistis sighed. _So much for that._

"Trouble in paradise?" A deep, resonant voice came from her right. 

She whirled, hand instinctively flying to the whip coiled at her hip. She was met with the sight of the proverbial other side of the stoic coin who'd just taken leave of her. "What do you want, Seifer?" She asked, her tone taking the tired edge it always did with him. 

He moved toward her casually. "Me?" His brows raised, and a gloved hand came to his chest in reference. "Oh, I'm just out here minding my own. Disciplinary committee stuff, you know."

She nodded, not believing it for a minute. "Sure." She turned back toward the view of the glowing sky.

"So, Leonhart, huh?" Seifer said after awhile. She was surprised at his restraint, surprised it'd taken him so long. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." She sniffed.

He laughed, incredulous. "Oh, come on," He said. "I just heard all of that."

She froze. _All of it?_ She hadn't really intended on anyone knowing about her demotion until absolutely necessary. That she'd thought to confide in Squall was clearly an oversight on her part. She kept her mouth shut, waiting for his inevitable mockery of the fact that she'd failed.

They were quiet, and he sidled up next to her, mirroring her stance, leaning on the rails. "Always had a feeling you had the hots for him, just wasn't positive 'til now."

She flushed, angry. "I do not have the 'hots' for anyone." She ground out. "Not least of all a student."

Seifer shot her a look. It was almost playful—not in any way close to usual threatening scowl he sported—and she found herself disarmed. "No? Could've fooled me," He shrugged. "And most of the rest of the student body, if we're honest."

Her eyes widened. "You mean to tell me the students all think I have a crush on Squall?" That couldn't be. She went through great pains to be discreet about her ambiguous feelings for Squall; to be professional. She was— _or had been,_ she thought forlornly—an Instructor, after all. Being raised in SeeD meant diligence, and she liked to believe it was something she held in spades.

He nodded. "Pretty much, yeah." He chuckled a little. "You can't tell me you're surprised, what, with the Trepies and everything."

She rubbed at her forehead. Right, of course. "Don't even remind me."

His sea-green eyes flashed with humor, and despite the situation, she found she liked how it looked on him. "Oooh, little Quisty doesn't like her fanclub?" He cooed, and his use of an affectionate nickname had her feeling like she was transported to another time, far away... some kind of déjà vu that she couldn't place... surely nothing. 

Without thinking, she shoved at him lightly. "Shut up, Seifer." She grumbled, but couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto her face. She expected an attitude, but he only smirked at her, and she suddenly had the insane feeling that they could be equals. As if maybe, under different circumstances, they could be.... well, perhaps something more. 

She sobered at the strange, sudden thought, glancing down at her watch. "It's past curfew." She stated.

Seifer physically pulled away, his head dropping. "Aaaand she's back." He muttered.

"Excuse me?" She asked.

"Trepebot."

" _Trepebot?"_ Her voice raised a few octaves, mildly affronted, but mostly curious.

"We both know you're not as cold and mechanical as you try to come off." He explained, shrugging with an unaffected air. "You're the same age as all of us, you know. You're just afraid to let your hair down because you think it'd strip you of your authority."

She gaped at him. He was right, of course, she already knew this of herself, but how did he? Was she so transparent? Could everyone tell that she was just faking it? Was that... why she'd been let go as an Instructor? "You don't know what you're talking about." She spluttered, irritated, and turned away from him.

"Didn't mean to strike a nerve," He held up two hands on surrender. Always so damn casual, she thought agitatedly, even when he was shattering her carefully constructed facade with seemingly no effort at all. 

"You didn't." She spat. 

They were quiet. 

"It's just..." She finally started. She had to know, pride be damned. "Can everyone tell? Am I terribly transparent?" She hated being this weak; and in front of Seifer Almasy, of all people. But today had been rough on more than one count, and she was only human. 

He glanced at her, and if she'd been looking, she would've seen his face soften. He reached a tentative hand out, brushing tendrils of hair away from her face. "No," He murmured. "I'm just exceptionally observant." He gave her a charming grin.

She felt her skin heat where he touched and tried to ignore it. A derisive laugh escaped her, despite herself. "Seifer," she shot him an incredulous glance. "I appreciate you trying to make me feel better about it, but we both know you're barely keeping up in my class. You never pay attention to a word I say."

One side of his full lips curved up, and his eyes scanned her face attentively. She felt uncomfortable under his gaze, but realized that, true to his word, he did seem to be completely focused. "I pay attention to every word you say, Instructor." He said it with so much intensity, she almost felt like she couldn't breathe for a moment. 

She pulled away, facing the rails again, letting the breeze cool her slowly frazzling nerves. She cleared her throat. "Then why do you do so horribly in my class?"

"I said I pay attention to _you_ , not the curriculum."

She froze. "I—excuse me?"

He was silent, and when she turned to glance at him, he was openly staring at her. 

She tugged at her clothes self-consciously. "What are you trying to pull here, exactly, Seifer?" She crossed her arms, backing away from him. "Get under my skin to distract me so your cronies can pull some kind of stunt?" She glanced around suspiciously. "Get me in trouble with the board? What is this?" Her steely eyes met his, demanding.

His face was completely serious, his eyes lazily raking her form. "I was sort of just hoping to get under your skin, period." He said, and strangely, he sounded more sincere than she'd ever heard. The heat in his tone gave her the distinct feeling he didn't mean it in the way she had, and she felt her body begin to tingle with awareness.

He stepped forward slowly. "No tricks." He murmured. 

She felt suddenly overcome with desire for him, found herself noticing, not for the first time—she'd have to have been blind not to notice how attractive he was—how broad and hard he looked. How perfectly lean and chiseled from hours of training. 

"We..." She stepped back, her sense fighting for dominance. His close presence was fueling her lust, and her lust was clouding her judgment. "We can't." She choked out.

He paused. "Why?"

"I'm—I'm your teacher, and you're my student." But her voice shook when she said it, and she knew it wasn't true; not anymore.

He raised his brows. "That wasn't stopping you with Leonhart."

She snapped back to herself, stamping her foot in frustration. "Oh, for the last time, I told you that was nothing!" It hadn't been; not really. A silly crush, perhaps. Her feelings for Squall were a constant source of confusion. Did she love him as a woman loves a man, or as a sister loves a brother? They'd known each other for so long, the lines felt a bit blurred sometimes. Not to mention, he was as evasive and hard to understand as they came. 

"Sure," he chuckled. "Next defense?"

"I..." 

"Even if I am your student—which I won't be for much longer—we're both of age."

This pulled her up short. "Yes, but—" She feebly began to protest.

He stepped closer again. "And _I_ think you could stand to let loose a little." He grinned mischievously at her.

She shrugged, conceding. Considering the circumstances, he wasn't wrong; letting loose would probably be very beneficial considering her sour mood at being demoted. But, how kindly would the board take to that? She'd have no chance of getting her license back if she went off the rails now. "That's probably true, but there are likely better ways than—"

He stepped forward again, bringing his hands to her hips and pulling her against him. She gasped quietly, nearly coming undone the minute their hips came into contact. Her wide eyes flew to his, desperately trying to find the sound mind to remind her why she shouldn't do this, but she felt crazed with desire. She'd always been so focused on her career, she'd never really had time for things like this, but oh, how she'd craved it.

And she'd certainly never had many suitors knocking down her door. Men seemed to find her ambitiousness intimidating. She'd never had a man—a tall, solid, hot-blooded man—look at her the way he was looking at her right now. Touch her like he was. 

To say her incredibly repressed hormones were raging would have been a gross understatement.

Meeting his gaze did nothing but spur her on—his eyes held an innumerable amount of emotions that seemed to be warring with each other. Lust, admiration, tenderness... she wished she could read his mind, in that moment. 

"Why?" She barely whispered, wasn't even sure if she meant for him to hear. It was a horrible display of insecurity—an emotion SeeD's were taught not to show. It went against everything that had been drilled into her since she was merely a child, but here, in this strange, alternate reality of a moment, she had to know. 

His eyes flicked down, and he leaned in, brushing his lips against her jaw, and then her ear. "I like you, Quistis," She felt heat pool between her thighs at hearing him call her by her name, at the sensation of warmth against her ear. "I always have." He nibbled at her earlobe, then gave a broad lick up the side of her neck.

Her legs trembled, and one hand reached to her left for the railing. "I thought you always hated me...?" She asked, trying to maintain some degree of control, but she sounded pitiful, even to her own ears. Weak and breathy.

A chuckle rumbled against her where they touched. "Nah," He continued peppering wet kisses on her exposed throat. "I think you're too stiff. I think you try too hard. You drive me crazy in more ways than I can count, and this happens to be one of them." He placed his palm against the small of her back, and pushed their hips firmly together, emphasizing his point.

"Oh," She breathed in surprise. She bit her lip, but a stifled moan escaped her anyway. 

"Fuck, that's hot," His breath fanned her face, heavy lidded eyes taking her in. 

A noise escaped her at his expletive. She'd always found swearing in situations like this to be an incredible turn on. At least, when she fantasized about it in her head. 

He nuzzled the crook of her neck again, slid his nose up and along her cheek, and leveled his face with hers. She felt his lips brush hers, just barely, already sending an electric shock through her. Her breath caught, and then his mouth was on hers; soft, searing, demanding. 

She'd only kissed one other person before, another cadet when she was sixteen. It was awkward and bumbling and uncomfortable. Not at all like the scenes she'd read in harlequin romance novels. She didn't understand all the buzz about kissing, after that. 

Now, she did. 

This was what she always thought it should feel like—like fire burning you from the inside out. Everywhere he touched her felt like that, like he was bringing her to a fever pitch. His hands kneaded almost absentmindedly against her hips where he'd grabbed her, pulling her solidly against him periodically. When his hands started to explore, she remembered her own, and slid them against the back of his neck, raking her nails at the nape and into his hair.

He shivered, groaning softly into her mouth, and slid his hands up, teasing the bottom of her full breasts. She gasped against his mouth when he ran an experimental thumb lightly over her nipple, before palming her. She panted and moaned quietly against him, her hips starting to move of their own accord, seeking friction.

He growled suddenly, deep in his chest, walking her backwards until she hit a wall. They both cried out as their bodies collided. He continued palming her breasts, grinding his hips against hers in a steady rhythm, a sense of urgency about him now. She tried to meet his every thrust, her head lolling back in extreme pleasure. "Please, please, _please,_ " she moaned, completely unaware of herself or what she was pleading for.

He grunted, grinding against her harder. 

"Yes," She breathed, clawing at his broad shoulders. "More... more..."

He stopped suddenly, and she almost let out a noise of dissatisfaction, but almost as fast as he pulled away, he was pulling at her skirt, lifting it. She came to herself for a moment, nervous and apprehensive, and stilled his hands with her own. "Wait, wait," She fought everything screaming in her to keep going, but momentary panic had overridden it. "I've never..." She swallowed against the sudden dryness of her mouth, shaking her head. 

He smirked at her. "We're not," He murmured reassuringly. "Something else." And then he dropped to his knees, dipping his head under her skirt and pushing her legs into a wider stance. 

He placed a broad lick against her cotton underwear, and she gasped. He chuckled against her thigh. "You're soaked." He murmured. At that, she felt herself leak even more.

"Seifer," She whined, a sound so uncharacteristic for her it only turned him on more.

"Yes, ma'am," He grinned against her, pulling her underwear down and licking her core directly.

She moaned again, clenching her fists. She felt a warmth building in her stomach. She didn't think it could get better, and then his tongue moved and it was like he hit a livewire. She jerked, crying out. "Yes! Yes! There!" She moaned. She felt the vibration of his laugh against her, which just spurred her on. He darted his tongue out against it repeatedly. She felt like she was losing her mind with pleasure. His tongue moved again, sliding inside of her, his warm thumb pressing against her clit with just the right amount of pressure, and she froze while it washed over her. 

He was relentless, keeping his motions while she rode the aftershocks, mewling into each one. She panted while his licks became softer, more tender against her. Finally, he placed a soft kiss against her inner thigh and disengaged himself from her, pulling to full height. When she opened her eyes, she was met with his smug grin. He opened his mouth—to gloat, she presumed—but before he could utter a word, she'd put her mouth against his. 

He groaned in surprise, but quickly reciprocated. How could he not? She was frenzied, gripping at his trenchcoat, trying to get as close as physics would possibly allow. She broke away from his lips, moving hot, open-mouthed kisses to his neck.

"Shit," he murmured. She gave a broad lick against his Adam's apple, imitating what he'd done to her earlier. "You're wild." He choked out.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" She panted. "You've broken my well-kept repressed dam of sexual tension." She nipped at his neck lightly, raking her fingers down his chest and grinding her hips against him again. 

"Fuck," He hissed. "The only thing I'll ever get an A in, I guess."

She actually laughed against him—who knew Seifer Almasy had a sense of humor? And a dry one at that—a sound that quickly turned into a needy whine with their mutual ministrations. 

Somehow—they were both too frenzied with lust to know—they ended up on the ground, Quistis on top, her skirt bunched at her hips, frantically humping him. He was groaning with every thrust, raising up to meet her friction. The room was a symphony of moans and heavy breathing, tension mounting like a volcano on the brink of eruption. His large hands slid up her lithe body, pulling down the (incredibly convenient) zipper in the middle of her garments. When he found her naked underneath, he almost came on the spot. 

He groaned, raising up, and letting her ride his lap while he laved her chest. Her glorious, small breasts bounced as she ground against him. She moaned as he placed small licks against her pebbled nipples, crying out and coming when he rolled them between his teeth. Seeing her body convulse in ecstasy for a second time had him following shortly behind her, and if this was the view he got, he didn't even mind that he had to come in his pants, however uncomfortable the walk back to his dorm would be. 

She collapsed against him, sated, but just barely. 

"That was..." She breathed.

"Fucking amazing?" He supplied, after she seemed at a loss.

"Yes," She laughed at how aptly he'd put it. "And completely inappropriate." She added, but didn't seem remorseful.

He laughed, hands behind his head in the picture of ease. "What can I say? You're a temptress. I couldn't help myself."

She pushed herself up, leaning against his chest. "What, is it the teacher thing?" She teased, almost uncharacteristic for her, and he jerked with laughter. 

"Yeah," He murmured against her, his hands pushing tendrils of hair behind her ears. "Guess I have a teacher kink. Only for one, though."

She flushed crimson at that, and moved to lay on her back beside him. "Too bad I'm not one anymore." She murmured. 

He lifted up. "What?"

She gave him a watery smile. "Got demoted. Missed that part of Squall and I's conversation while you were eavesdropping?" She shot him a knowing glance.

He brows drew in. "I wasn't—nevermind," He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Her brows raised in surprise. He really was throwing her for a loop tonight. "S'okay," She shrugged, feeling a little drunk from what they'd just done. "It's probably for the best." And she meant it.

Almost timidly, his hand reached for hers, fingers playing gently against her own, trying to give whatever comfort he could offer. "I wish we didn't have to leave." He said in the cover of darkness, eyes toward the sky and safely away from her own.

"Me, too." She breathed, and realized it was true. She had stronger feelings for him than she'd ever known. She thinks some part of her always knew it was there, but pushed it back, didn't acknowledge it because feelings like that were dangerous. Especially when it came to Seifer Almasy.

They couldn't be together—it wouldn't work, and not just for the feeble excuse she'd given that she'd been a teacher and he was a student. They both knew that.

So she sighed, reveling in the way his large hand felt wrapped around hers, the heat radiating off his body beside her, and tried to soak it in. 

Maybe, somewhere else, in another universe, it was them against the world. 

But in this one, this solitary moment of passion was all they would ever share, and they both felt the tangible sorrow pulsing through them. 

In a few minutes, they would stand up and straighten their clothes. Quistis would smooth Seifer's hair back into its usual style and laugh at his scowl, and he would zip up her top and lean in for one final kiss, one final moment of _them_ , and then he would leave as quietly as he'd come, leaving Quistis in silence, idly wondering if it'd even been real at all or just an elaborate fantasy in her mind.


End file.
